Danny awoke to bangs against the walls.

He hurried up the basement stairs thinking the worst, that his father finally snapped.

"Mom!" he yelled, anxiety already squeezing his chest.

He rounded the corner, ready to run up the stairs to his mom, but paused in the foyer. A suitcase lay at the bottom, unzipped, with clothes tumbling out.

He crouched down and lifted up a polka dot blouse. "What in the world?" he muttered.

"For goodness' sake, Alex," his mom complained.

Danny looked up and saw her leaning over the railing on the second-floor landing. She was looking up to the third-floor landing where her assistant Alex lugged two more suitcases from her fitting room.

"Must've rolled down," Alex said and began his trek down.

"What's going on?" Danny asked as he tucked in the clothes. He didn't bother folding, so he zipped it and set the suitcase upright before his mom could see.

Irene descended the stairs as she fixed her earring. The bangles on her wrists clanged at the movement. She dawned her red heels to compliment her white suit. "Oh, did I forget to tell you?" she asked.

When she reached him, she leaned up and planted a kiss on his cheek. Danny knew there was a bright red lipstick stain on his skin.

"We need to head to Milan. There's trouble at the event site, those idiots. The project manager says three of my outfits are missing. Three! If they aren't there, you'll have a mother in the Italian prison system."

Danny prayed that they were there because he knew she wasn't kidding. "How long will you be gone?"

She blew a breath through her lips. "Hard to say. I know I'll be back for your birthday. And we'll have a big party, and it'll be great."

Danny's first reaction was to scream 'no,' but he composed himself enough to smile slightly with a reluctant nod. He hated the parties his mom organizes. They were more a networking event rather than a fun time.

He remembers for his fourteenth, they held it at some fancy hotel he couldn't pronounce the name of. His guest list included investment bankers to runway models to retired hedge fund managers.

The gifts well made up for how miserable he was, but still. He wanted to go play paintball or have a sleepover party. Something actually fun rather than an event where he had to be polite.

He was thankful, at least, that his friends always crash towards the end of the night and pull him away.

Alex bent at the waist when he reached the foyer. Irene laughed and walked out the front door. She knew good and well how heavy clothes could be.

"Thought you benched three-twenty-five?" Danny teased.

Alex straightened and sent Danny a scowl. "Big words coming from someone who didn't have to carry these three flights. And just for that, I'm making sure you have the biggest party yet."

His face instantly fell. "Alex, c'mon, man," Danny said.

He simply stared back with a smug grin.

Danny scowled and took the first suitcase and one from Alex. He carried them to the Suburban and loaded them in the back.

Alex stood next to him and loaded his. He closed the trunk and slapped Danny on the back a few times. "Thanks for stepping up when I was sick. I felt terrible that I left her."

Danny shrugged off his words. "It's nothing."

Alex winked and said, "See you in a few weeks." He rounded the car and headed for the driver's seat.

Danny walked to the passenger seat. The door was still open, and her leg hung from the vehicle. The stereo was already playing a French song Danny didn't recognize. His mom started at her phone, most likely scrolling through her itinerary. "Ready?" she questioned when Alex got seated.

"Good to go."

"Have a safe trip, Mom."

Irene looked up and beamed. "Sweetheart." She stood from the car and attacked him with a hug. "I'll miss you so much!" Danny laughed as she placed multiple kisses on his cheeks. "Be good. I love you," she said.

"Love you, too."

She got in and rolled down the window. "Have your friends over if you get too lonely. Make sure you get enough sleep, Daniel! I mean it!"

He nodded and trailed them slowly as Alex reversed out of the driveway. His mom continued to lean from the window. "And water the flowers, please. The Sunflowers could use it."

He stopped at the end of the driveway as they continued onto the street.

She leaned half her body from the window and waved. "Bye! I love you!"

Danny waved and watched as they drove down the street and turned the corner.

***

Danny was glad to see John B lying on the dock when he arrived. He had his head resting on a ring buoy, and his feet kicked up on the railing of the ladder.

He nodded in greeting and sat on the bench. He hooked his arm around Kie's leg, where she sat propped on the top edge of the seat. She ran her hand through his hair, and he almost commented on how good it felt until she tugged and craned his neck to the side.

"Ow," he said pointedly.

She ran her thumb over his cheek. "Why do you have lipstick?"

"Oh," Danny commented. He wiped at his face. "Forgot I had those."

"Who'd you have over last night?"

"No one."

"Oh," Kie sang. "Secret Rendevous in the early morning. I see."

"Rendevous? What, are you a spy?"

She lowered herself to the bench next to him. "You wish I was a spy."

Danny smiled. He looked over to JJ, hoping to catch his eye. He didn't.

JJ continued to smoke something and stare out into the water lazily. He sat on the wooden railing and leaned against a beam.

Danny fought every urge in his body to go and stand by him. Simply be near him.

Kie licked her thumb and wiped his cheek. He leaned away with a yell of disgust and pushed at her arms.

"Hold still," she ordered and bit her lip in concentration as she tried with all her might to reach his cheek.

If Danny leaned a little further, he'd be toppling to the ground.

"Danny," she whined, and he relented with a put-upon sigh. He sat with a deep frown on his face as she continued to lick her thumb and wipe away the lipstick marks.

After Kie deemed Danny clean, John B dejectedly revealed, "Gold's gone, guys."

"What?" Kie asked.

John B dipped his chin and stared at the roof covering the dock. "It's all gone. We lost."

"Shit," JJ muttered and ran a hand through his hair.

"You sure he got everything?" Danny asked, really not wanting to believe him but still convinced by the despair on John B's face.

"Every bar. The whole enchilada." John B grunted as he pulled the cast off his hand. He tossed it to the side. "Look, it's not like I expected a happy ending or some shit."

"John B—" Kie chastized.

"What, Kie? It's a hairline fracture. Who cares?"

"You should care. Your arm's gonna be messed up for life."

He showed his hand and wiggled his fingers. "It's fine. See?"

"Guys!" Pope hollered. He sprinted down the dock to meet them. "Guys!" He stopped abruptly on the landing and bent to place his hands on his knees. "Oh! Oh! Oh, God. I ran all the way here."

Danny laughed to himself.

"You all right?" John B asked.

Pope nodded, clearly exhausted.

JJ turned his head to look. He asked, "How was the interview, Pope?"

"Don't ask."

"Awesome," John B said and offered a thumbs up.

"JB," Pope panted. "Look, I'm sorry, dude. About everything."

"It's fine."

"But—but I don't have a lot of time," Pope said and ragged a breath. "And—and I have information that is tactically relevant. So, before I had my interview, my dad said he was going down to the private airstrip to cut palms for Cameron's big plane."

Danny perked up, suddenly hopeful.

"Because it was too heavy, it needed a longer landing strip to take off. So, I'm there sitting in my interview, thinking to myself, 'Hm. Why would Cameron need a longer airstrip to take off? What could be so heavy to weigh it down?'"

"Gold," JJ said in excitement.

John B agreed. "That's right."

Pope waved his arms wildly. "Exactly. Guys, this is our chance, but it leaves tonight, and we have to go."

Kie stood with a smile on her face. "Guys, we can't give up now."

"What's the plan, big man?" JJ asked.

John B sat up and said the most brilliant sentence Danny's ever heard, "We're gonna steal that shit back."

Danny whooped and picked up Kie. He spun her around in his arms. "Heist part two, baby!"

She laughed, and they took off down the dock. Footsteps quickly followed them.

"Let's do this!" Pope yelled.

***

Danny watched almost transfixed as JJ loaded the magazine on the floor of the van. His fingers deftly loaded each bullet in quick procession. He couldn't even be ashamed when JJ caught him staring. He was too impressed.

They were racing to the Kildare Executive Airstrip. They didn't have an exact plan per se, but they were good enough improvisers. Five against one. Should be easy.

"So, what's the plan?" Pope asked. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt, still stained with sweat from his long run.

"We go in there, guns a-blazin'," JJ answered, matter-of-factly. "Make Ward Cameron beg for mercy, abscond with as much gold as possible, and vámonos, get the hell out of there."

Danny shrugged. It was pretty good.

"Down the Intracoastal," John B added.

Kie said, "Wait for weather."

"Exit to Cuba," Pope finished.

"Cuba?" JJ asked. "No, man, Xcalak, Jewel of the Yucatan. Lobsters so thick, mangoes, and no word for money."

He was due for a vacation. He shared a smile with Kie.

Danny could picture it now: sand between his toes, no responsibilities, and surfing until he couldn't stand up anymore. Granted, it wasn't much different than life in OBX, but the experience is what mattered.

JJ loaded the magazine into the gun and said, "Let's do this shit."

As they drove closer, Danny said, "He's at airstrip five."

"How do you know?" John B asked, yet still drove in that direction.

"My mom owns airstrip four," he answered easily.

John B parked just outside the perimeter of the base. A large fence blocked them off.

"What's the plan?" Kie asked as they exited the van. "Broad strokes."

They ran to the fence and peered at the plane. The top of the fence had layers of barbed wiring. They couldn't hop it this time.

"I don't think we got that far," John B said.

Pope looked through the binoculars. He said, "They're loading up the gold."

"Shit!" Danny cried. It would be so much harder to steal it back now.

John B took the binoculars from Pope. "There's Ward," he said.

The car pulled up next to the plane. Forklifts loaded crates into the back of the plane.

"It's Sarah," John B said.

"What?" Danny asked in surprise. She wouldn't do that. That couldn't be right. "Hold on. I'm gonna get another pair."

He jogged back to the van and hopped inside. He remembered seeing another pair of binoculars in the seat compartment when they stashed the gold and cash before they were robbed. He pushed around random junk trying to find them.

He glanced up when someone entered the driver's seat. "Yo, John B? What are you doing?" he asked when John B started the van.

"Yo," Danny said, suddenly weary. He continued when John B started driving, "Yo, yo, yo, yo. Dude! You're gonna crash!"

Danny lost his footing and fell to the ground when the van swerved as John B crashed into the fence and sped onto the runway.

"Hold on!" John B yelled.

Danny looked through the busted windshield. The plane was already in motion, preparing to take off, but John B wasn't slowing down. "Dude, you cannot stop this plane! We'll fucking die!"

John B didn't heed his warning and continued to accelerate.

"Hey! Hey! It's okay! It's okay!" John B said while looking out the window at Sarah.

"This is not happening," Danny muttered to himself. He heaved the side door closed and sat down on one of the seats. He searched for a seat belt but came up empty.

"Please think about this, John B!" Danny pleaded when the van sped up even more. He clutched the seat with white knuckles. If Danny weren't so nervous, he'd be really impressed at the speed that this piece of shit van could travel.

John B pulled the emergency brake and turned the wheel, and Danny went flying.

The momentum had him crashing into the side of the door and crumpling to the ground. He groaned and could vaguely hear John B kicking open his door and yelling for Sarah.

He heard sirens and tried to sit up. His vision rushed, and he leaned back down. "What the fuck, dude," he muttered and brought his hand to his head. Blood coated his fingers when he pulled away. "Fuck."

He wiped his fingers on his shorts and tried not to be too upset at John B.

"Put your hands on your head!"

"No, no, no," Danny said and slide open the door. John B could not be getting arrested. Where the hell did the cops even come from?

He stumbled out and leaned his weight against the side of the van. Once he felt righted, he rounded the corner and saw Sherrif Peterkin slapping cuffs on Ward. John B and Sarah watched a few feet away.

This was a pleasantly unexpected turn.

Danny stepped over to them and slapped his hand on John B's shoulder for encouragement but also to help him balance. He tried not to feel bad hearing Sarah's cries.

Ward suddenly tried to fight Sheriff Peterkin off, but she stepped back and pulled her gun. A shot sounded, and Danny flinched. Sheriff fell to her knees, and Rafe stepped from behind the plane with his pistol raised and a deranged smile on his face.

Danny pulled at John B's arm. "Oh, my God," he muttered.

"Rafe, no," Sarah whispered.

"Rafe, what did you do?" Ward asked, his hand still raised cautiously.

Sheriff Peterkin fell to her side with a strangled gasp.

"I saved you, Dad," he answered. "I saved you."

Danny brought his hands to his head and gripped his hair. What the hell just happened?

John B stepped forward and crouched next to the Sheriff. He took his bandana from around his neck and pressed it to her wound. Blood soaked it instantly. He clicked the radio button.

"Hey!" Rafe yelled and pointed the gun at John B.

"Hey! Rafe, no!

"Don't try it asshole."

"Rafe—John B, give me the radio," Ward said.

"No."

He bent and grabbed it from John B's hand. "Come on. Give me the radio." He pulled it from Sheriff's utility belt and stood.

Danny shook his head in disbelief. He didn't know what to do. Rafe had a gun drawn, and he wasn't afraid to use it.

"Rafe, I've got it. Calm down," Ward said and ushered Rafe back a few steps. "Rafe, put the gun down."

Danny decided then to walk forward and tug on John B's hoodie while keeping an eye on the two insane men. "Come on," he whispered.

"Run!" Sheriff Peterkin whispered, voice strained.

"I'm sorry," John B implored.

Danny lead them back a few steps, but Rafe caught sight of them. "Where you goin'? Huh!"

"Run!" Sarah ordered and shoved at them. Danny let go of John B's hoodie and sprinted to the tree line. He glanced over his shoulder and realized belatedly that John B ran through the field.

"Rafe, stop!" Sarah yelled.

"Fuck," he cursed, but he didn't have time to turn around. Shots sounded, and he flinched. Just as he broke through the treeline, an impact to his shoulder sent him careening into a tree trunk, and he tumbled to the forest floor.

With the breath still knocked out of him, he pushed to his hands and knees and crawled around the tree trunk, and pressed against it. He rested the back of his head against the bark and groaned in pain. Agony exploded across his shoulder, knifing its way down his right arm and across his back.

He was shot. Not like the graze from the square groupers. Like full-blown, hole-in-the-shoulder-shot.

Blood streamed slowly and steadily from the wound, staining his shirt and making it stick. He brought his hand up to cover it, not believing what he was seeing. When he pulled back, blood followed and coated his hand.

He swallowed the scream threatening to break free from his throat. He was still cognizant enough to know he couldn't give away his position.

He heard Sarah yell and he snapped out of it. She was still in danger. He peered around the trunk and saw Rafe hauling her to the truck. He lifted her off the ground as her legs kicked. Danny patted his pocket for his phone and pulled it out. He tried to call 911, but the no service dial tone rang in his ear.

"Fucking hell," he groaned. He swiped up on his camera and tried to film the encounter. His hand shook with either adrenaline or pain; he couldn't tell which. He ended the video when she and Rafe drove away. He couldn't be sure of the quality, but it was better than nothing.

Ward stood over Sheriff Peterkin. He could make out her large pool of blood even from his distance. Danny felt conflicted. He wanted to go and help her, but he didn't want to be anywhere near Ward. Who's to say he wouldn't pick up her gun and shoot him?

He tried to peer around the branches as much as he could manage while still staying concealed to try and search for John B in the field. He couldn't see or hear him, so Danny assumed he got away unharmed. 

Danny turned and started half walking, half jogging farther into the woods. Every few hundred feet, he searched for service on his phone. He should head for his mom's airstrip. They'd have a phone.

He prayed John B had better luck than he did and that he went and reported the incident to the police. He knew Ward was going to try and spin the situation, so the quicker John B got there, the better off they would be.

Danny had to hurry and help him.

He stumbled and propped his hand against a tree. His stomach rolled and promptly threw up. He wiped his mouth and spat in a vain attempt to rid the foul taste in his mouth. He glanced behind his shoulder in the direction he came from.

"I can't believe she's dead," he whispered.

***

Danny was lost.

It was getting dark, and he still couldn't find his way out of the woods. He was making slow progress, the blood loss taking a major toll.

He needed to place pressure on the wound, but he also needed to use the flashlight on his phone. The blood coated the side of his shirt and dripped down his arm, along his fingers, and onto the ground. He's most definitely been leaving a trail. It was the only warm thing on his body. The rest of him was clammy with a cold sweat.

Panic's been trying to burst from his chest, but he's been pushing it down. It wouldn't serve a purpose. His shoulder felt as if his arm was half way torn off and hanging by a thin thread of tissue. Every step over the uneven terrain felt like lightning.

He hasn't been able to catch his breath for the past twenty-something minutes. He needed to sit and take a break. Maybe rest his eyes. He started to drag his feet the last mile or so. It's gotten harder to place one foot in front of the other.

He stumbled to a tree and his knees buckled from beneath him. He barely registered the foilage digging into his knees.

Danny leaned against the tree and kicked his legs out in front of him. He stared at his wallpaper for a long moment. He hoped JJ was okay.

A bar in the corner of the screen caught his eye. He chuckled and then coughs overtook him. They racked his lungs, and every jolt sent a spark of pain pulsing in his shoulder. He pressed 911 and rested the phone on his leg, too tired to lift it up.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?" the lady asked through the speaker.

"I," he said and sucked in a breath. Every breath he took was too shallow to reach his lungs but just quick and thick enough to choke on. "I've been shot. I need. . . I . . ."

"Can you tell me your name, sir?" she asked. "Where are you?"

"Danny Sarver."

"All right, Danny. Tell me where you are, and I'll send the paramedics."

Danny fought off the need to close his eyes. He looked around. He didn't know where he was. There was only darkness and trees. "I don't—I." He paused to catch his breath. "Woods. I'm in. . . woods." He told her the most important piece of information that's been branded into his head, "Rafe Cameron shot me."

He must've blacked out for a moment because someone on the phone was repeatedly calling his name.

Who was he talking to? Where was he?

"JJ?" he called, voice slurred.

He tried to pick up his phone, but his blood-slick fingers dropped it. "I'm sorry, JJ." He patted around the underbrush for his phone. He panted, "Please forgive me."

He fell on his side.

When he opened his eyes again, hands were turning him over and lifting him on a backboard. Blurry faces stared down at him, and someone placed an oxygen mask over his face.

He blinked and overhead lights raced above him.

He blinked and surgical masks.

He blinked. Darkness.

*****

Lol I bet many of you were expecting a safe Danny to remain with the crew, but we know I love to torture him. 

Was this easy enough to follow? I wanted the ending to kinda show how his mind/health was deteriorating. If it's not good/clear, let me know so I can edit later : )

Thanks for sticking with me! I appreciate all your votes and comments! 

See you soon for season 2. As always, share your thoughts or requests!

R